The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6) (14 page)

“So there are more people being held against their will,” Lexi said as her mind began to formulate a plan of attack.

“That’s right, you look at yourself as some sort of vigilante. Listen, my pretty little friend, your sexy self ain’t gonna be able to do anything against those fucking savages. I’m a fighter, and those motherfuckers mean business. Please take my advice and avoid them at all costs.”

“Can you go to bed now?” Lexi asked.

“No.”

“Then can you shut up?”

“You have the worst personality I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Ssh,” Lexi said. She closed her eyes and rested into the chair.

Nicholas looked at her silhouette. She was incorrigible and rude, but none of it took away from his attraction to her. In fact, the more she acted out, the more he grew to like her. He opened his mouth to talk but she shut him down immediately.

“Ssh.”

He did what she said and remained quiet.

The silent seconds turned to minutes.

The alcohol mixed with fatigue began to take its effect on him as he slowly closed his eyes.

Abruptly she got up and went into the kitchen. She return just as fast with a jug of water and three Advil and placed them on a table next to him. “You’ll need these.” She went back to her seat and sat down.

He opened one eye, smiled and thought to himself,
She likes me.

DECEMBER 28, 2015

“Never, never, never, never give up.” – Winston Churchill

Banff, Alberta, Western Canada

Gordon lay staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to sleep nor had he been able to come to grips with what had happened or what was going to happen.

He and Samantha hadn’t spoken much since their reunion. Both were in a state of shock.

Samantha spent much time in the bathroom, seeking time alone to cry. The trauma of what happened made her fearful that once Jacques took control of Cascadia, he would terrorize the population in a similar fashion.

Unable to sleep Gordon rose and went to the bathroom to check on Samantha. He knocked softly and asked, “You coming to bed?”

“Leave me alone,” she replied.

He didn’t want to push her. He sympathized with her pain but felt helpless to comfort her. He walked to a window that overlooked the mountains. The light of the full moon lit the white snow. Dawn was still hours away and with it would bring judgment day.

He began to ponder why humans had to make things worse. Greed seemed to be a driving force behind many of those tyrannical leaders who sought power. They weren’t satisfied with what they had; they needed more and more as if their appetite couldn’t be satiated.

What was he to do? He was stuck. If Samantha wasn’t here, this would be an easier thing to deal with, but Jacques was correct, family could be leveraged against you. They were his greatest strength and weakness. His family gave him purpose and their safety made him do anything to ensure they lived in peace, but that included losing everything he had worked so hard for so they could live in peace. It was a sick and twisted thing.

The bathroom door opened and Samantha came out sniffling. She headed straight from Gordon.

He turned and greeted her with open arms. “Sit with me,” he said tenderly.

She sat on his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“Not like before, I’m really scared, Gordon. This is different; I don’t know how we can escape this. The man is brutal. Even if you sign that deal, why would he even hold up his side of the bargain and let me go.”

“We’ll figure this out, we always do,” Gordon said hoping his words could bring comfort.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.”

“If we get back, I want to leave, I want to move to Hawaii or Alaska, I want out of Idaho. I’m done fighting, I am done. This will never end. It’s like whack-a-mole. We get rid of one bad person and another pops up in his place.”

He petted her hair and said, “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Maybe Hawaii, sunny beaches, warm.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

She yawned heavily and said, “I’m going to lie down, I’m tired.”

“You go do that,” he said and gave her a kiss.

She jumped in the bed and curled up with a pillow.

Gordon turned back to the window and looked out. Once again he was in a precarious situation and needed a Hail Mary pass to survive, only this time the end zone seemed impossible to reach.

West of Joseph, Oregon, Republic of Cascadia

Nicholas’ snoring was unbearable and only proved Lexi’s point that men were gross.

The room was frigid with no fire to keep them warm. Lexi decided against it for security reasons. She didn’t want their smoke to lead someone to the house. With three blankets wrapped around her she cuddled into a ball on the chair.

Dawn would come soon and bring warmth. The temperatures had dropped well below freezing by evidence that a thick layer of frost had developed on the inside edges of the windows. Curious, she reached out and touched it. Then like a child she traced her sister’s initials, CT, into the frost. She stared at the initials. She wondered how many times Carey had traced her initials somewhere or doodled them on her school notebooks or on notes to friends. She missed Carey so much. How could someone be so cruel, so barbaric as to murder the innocent? How could someone blindly follow a God that allowed the murder and abuse of innocents? Who would follow such a group or cult or religion? So much that she had seen after the lights went out hardened her belief that humans lacked humanity, then occasionally she’d get a glimmer of hope, but her experiences on the road since had been example after example of humanity's devolution. Before the lights went out, Americans would toss out plates of food without regard; now people murdered for crumbs or scraps.

Nicholas shuffled in the chair and turned onto his side, which temporarily stopped his heavy snoring.

“Thank you,” Lexi said under her breath.

She thought about Nicholas. How odd that she’d find someone from Solana Beach on the road? It was just too weird. He seemed nice, but she couldn’t let her guard down with him. She had to admit that he became more sympathetic with that tie but mainly because he too had lost a sister. They had a connection in that regard.

The thoughts of Nicholas and his sister led her mind to wander to the slavers who had killed her. These were the exact types of people she sought to bring her brand of justice too. Killing people like them was her purpose now. She needed to find them and rain violence down on them. The more she thought about the slavers, the more her anger grew. She imagined in her mind’s eye them raping the women or children they held. She could see their savagery as clearly as if she were watching it.

She tossed off the blankets, grabbed her gear and rifle, and walked into the kitchen. On the counter sat her main backpack; she rummaged through it until she found a small LED lantern, her firearms cleaning kit and sharpening stone. She turned on the lantern but on to the red light. Doing so provided her enough light without lighting up the entire room and giving away her location to anyone who might be outside.

She opened her cleaning kit and removed everything she’d need: patches, a rag, oil, Hoppe’s #9 and a brush. She dropped the thirty-round magazine from her rifle, pulled the charging handle back, and locked it to the rear while keeping her hand over the ejection port to catch the round that had been chambered. She removed her spare magazines from the pouches on her vest and placed them all on the table. One by one she unloaded them. Once they were unloaded, she lubed up the brush and began to scrub each magazine and made sure the springs were in good condition. Satisfied she had done a good job, she reloaded the magazines and tapped the back of each magazine against her palm to ensure they all were set.

With the magazines checked, cleaned and reloaded, she unscrewed the rail knobs on her ACOG and removed the optics, setting it carefully to the side on the table. With the optics removed, she popped the rear pin and opened the receiver. She pulled the charging handle back and with it came the bolt receiver group. She took it out and set it down. After that, she removed the spring and popped the forward pin to completely separate the upper and lower. If Lexi was anything, she was thorough and meticulous. If she was going into battle and was going to die, it wasn’t going to happen because her gear malfunctioned.

She took her time on each piece. First scrubbing with Hoppe’s, then wiping down and finishing off with a thin coat of oil. Like an old veteran, she quickly pieced the rifle back together, put the ACOG back on, and inserted a fully loaded magazine. The last touch was to chamber a round; she pulled the charging handle back and slapped the bolt catch. Her rifle was loaded and ready for action.

She repeated this with her Sig, a Glock she kept as a secondary, and a small revolver she carried on her ankle.

With the firearms done she turned her attention to her knives. Lexi carried seven on her at all times. Tucked into the small of her back she carried two Kershaw six-inch knives. The other four knives were folding knives from various makers like Spyderco, Benchmade, and her new favorite was from Zero Tolerance. Lexi was a brand whore before and she continued to be in the apocalypse. The phrase you get what you paid for meant a lot even now. While she didn’t pay for the gear, she’d do a lot to get quality gear. It literally could mean life or death. The knives she kept on her waistband, rear pocket, side pocket and one on her vest.

One by one she sharpened the knives and wiped them dry. Nothing could be worse than a slippery blade.

Lexi’s cleaning routine was more of a ritual now. Similar to a priest who diligently presided over the Eucharist during mass, she was a priestess and her weapons were her holy sacraments.

With the rag in her hand she wiped the blade of the last knife and placed it carefully on the table. She stood and looked down with pride at the tools of her trade.

“So beautiful,” she said.

Nicholas shifted in the chair and groaned; he opened his eyes and was surprised to see Lexi standing in the kitchen. He sat up slightly, rubbed his aching head and asked, “Whatcha doin’?”

She cocked her head and answered, “Going to war. Now get up, we have planning to do.”

Banff, Alberta, Western Canada

“I’m not leaving this room without my wife, period,” Gordon exclaimed.

The guard repeated the same words he had said three times before. “Your wife is to stay; no harm is coming to her. She will be here upon your return.”

“No.”

“Sir, we have been given authority to take you there by force, the choice is yours.”

“No!”

Megyn walked in and with a calming voice said, “I’ll stay with Mrs. Van Zandt. I can assure you she’ll be safe.”

Gordon gave Megyn a hard look, still not confident he could leave.

Samantha rushed to Gordon’s side and said, “Go. I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her and said, “No, I don’t trust him.”

“Sir, we need to go, now,” the guard insisted.

“Mr. President, I understand your hesitation, but please know I’ll sit here with her,” Megyn said.

“Go. I’ll be fine,” Samantha said.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Gordon again said.

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Sweetheart, we don’t have a choice.”

Gordon knew she was right, but what if he was wrong and this was the last time he’d see her. The thought haunted him.

“Sir, now,” the guard said taking a step closer to Gordon.

“Sweetheart, go,” Samantha said and pushed him away.

Gordon resisted for a second then gave in. “Nothing is going to happen to her, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Megyn confirmed.

What if I’m wrong?
Gordon thought. He looked at the two heavily armed guards and began to size them up. He’d won fights against more men, so he could win this, but was it worth it? He hated these situations.

The guards stood to each side of him.

Gordon looked at Samantha and said, “I’ll be right back.”

The guards escorted him out of the room. When the doors clicked closed, his stomach turned. He looked over his shoulder but didn’t see anyone posted outside. Maybe they were telling the truth.

Like the two previous days, Gordon was escorted down the maze of long hallways and stairways until he was standing in front of the tall doors.

One of his guards knocked.

The doors opened.

Gordon saw Cruz, he was sitting on the sofa, but the look on his face wasn’t of a man who had just capitulated. He was smiling and talking with Jacques, who sat on the opposing couch.

“Ah, Gordon is here. Please come and sit down. We were just talking about you,” Jacques said. “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

Gordon slowly walked in; he was apprehensive. Something felt off.

Cruz gave Gordon a look but couldn’t look him in the eyes.